


Next Christmas

by jalendavi_lady



Category: The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalendavi_lady/pseuds/jalendavi_lady
Summary: It's been one year since the visit from the Marleys, and Scrooge has put his affairs in order just in case it was only his soul's welfare he could change and not his predicted demise.Now, all he can do is wait for Christmas morning.





	Next Christmas

Ebenezer Scrooge, once partner of Jacob and Robert Marley, had been making his plans since Michaelmas Day.  
  
There was, after all, no telling what the night he'd spent with the the three spirits at the Marleys request had managed to change. Without the change in him, he was due for all appearances to die on Christmas Eve himself as the Marleys had eight years before. That would have given him an entire quarter of the banking year from Michaelmas to put his affairs in order.  
  
He had not counted on having the entire quarter of the banking year. By sunset on the eve of All Hallows, he had appropriately modified and filed his will with the proper authorities. If anyone asked, he merely told them that the turn of the season did turn one's mind to the aches of age and what they foreboded.  
  
What that meant was that he had been able to shove the entire matter as far in the back of his mind as possible by Gunpowder Treason Day and enjoy the antics of the youths around him.  
  
Christmas couldn't be ignored nor could its approach. Not for long, at least. It was the last quarter day of the banking year, and while there weren't nearly as many foreclosures as in the past there was still the inevitable pile of refinancing to calculate and rents to collect.  
  
It was the last quarter day of the banking year, and that made it perfect for what he had planned if he had a future past Christmas Eve.  
  
He'd started on Lady Day, when the winter was beginning to break and the treatments for Tiny Tim had begun to work well enough there was no excusing the improvement as a figment of hopeful imagination. Errands and small jobs for Bob Cratchit that went beyond his previous duties, easily explained away in Cratchit's mind as more work for more pay. He hadn't complained, and after all he had been in charge of the junior clerks for years without being shown that level of trust.  
  
Midsummer's Day had shown Tiny Tim was likely to live past his childhood and needed to make a way for himself one day if he could, and within a matter of weeks he'd proven to Scrooge that he'd have his father's head for maths if he was given the chance to learn. He'd never have the strength for earning his bread with the sweat of his brow, but ink under his nails would do as well. Or better.  
  
Which meant what Scrooge dearly wanted to do was not going to be a cruel joke.  
  
By the start of December, he had the papers in hand and dated to come into effect on Christmas morning and the start of the new quarter-year. If he lived, they would do the same thing the All Hallows revision of his will would do if he died.  
  
And then he had nothing to do but wait and try to enjoy what might be his last days.

* * *

The two firms he let his downstairs rooms to had taken half days on Christmas Eve as always, and so the entire building was dark by the time he came home from the counting house for the holiday.  
  
He planned to spend the midday meal with the Cratchits, having already personally been invited by Tiny Tim to come again months ago, and have supper with Fred and Clara in the evening. He hoped he would be able to keep those plans.  
  
He felt a bit light-headed on the stairs, but it passed quickly when he entered his own rooms. Still, it put fear in his heart.  
  
There was nothing more he could do.  
  
It was a warm night for the season and he was used to sleeping cold, so he let the fire die out when he no longer needed it for the light.  
  
He felt like staying up all night, looking out between his bedcurtains at the window and the stars beyond them.  
  
Every bit of evidence he had was that he'd died in his sleep. It was foolish to think staying awake might preserve him, but there he was.  
  
But the stress was giving him a headache and the long worries of the short day had exhausted him, so he finally laid down and let himself doze.

* * *

His head felt like it was splitting open.  
  
His back was freezing cold and the air on his face was only slightly better.  
  
"You have to wake up, Mr. Scrooge," Tiny Tim was begging him.  
  
Someone shook him.  
  
He groaned and opened his eyes, then clenched them shut against the painful light.  
  
"Thank the lord and all his saints," Bob Cratchit muttered under his breath.  
  
"What happened?" Scrooge croaked through a dry throat.  
  
"You didn't show up and we came looking for you. And then Father realized something was wrong."  
  
"Gas in the building," Cratchit told him in a tone grimmer than Scrooge had ever heard him use before. "It's worse downstairs than it is in your rooms, I could smell it the moment I got the door open. I left Tim out here and got you outside. And I still wasn't sure you'd ever wake up."  
  
The air was clearing his head. "Thank you."  
  
There was a rising commotion in the street now, as his neighbors realized something was going on. And no doubt Bob or Tiny Tim had called out for help before he came to.  
  
"Just rest, Mr. Scrooge, we'll get you to Fred's for tonight." Cratchit's voice had forced lightness in it. "At least this happened after close of business for the quarter, the clerks can handle anything that needs doing the next few days if you need longer than the holiday to recover."  
  
Scrooge forced a smile. "You're not getting all twelve days of Christmastide off, Bob Cratchit." He wanted to thank the other man for his life, but the less Tiny Tim realized in the moment the better.  
  
"It was the best decision of your life to give me that spare key," Cratchit told him. "I will never be more happy to listen to you grumbling over account records as when you make it back to the counting house after this. I'll swear it on anything you'd like."  
  
"Don't worry about that now." He opened his eyes and glanced meaningfully at Tiny Tim long enough to see Bob Cratchit's eyes widen and then narrow in recognition that the child was listening and Scrooge wanted to be careful of him.  
  
There was a long time when he just focused on getting his head clear enough that he could stand the pain when he kept his eyes open.  
  
"If you'd swear on anything, I'd like it to be the papers I had on the table by the door so I wouldn't forget them when I left the house this morning."  
  
Cratchit pulled them out of the safety of his own coat. "I thought as much and grabbed them on the way in. I don't know why I took the moment to do it, it just seemed like the right thing to do."  
  
"It was." He took a few deep breaths, then took the papers from Cratchit with only the briefest look to make sure they were the correct ones. "We should have the cab go by your house on the way to Fred's. Let Emily know you're both all right before she can fret herself sick and that you were the hero of the hour. And I want to see the look on her face when you swear that on these." And also when he had Bob read them to her out loud in front of their pack of children a moment later, of course.

It was after all long past the appropriate time for Bob Cratchit to have moved up to junior partner from clerk, as he had once done himself in the same firm, and then when Tiny Tim was not so tiny it would be Cratchit And Son after it was Scrooge And Cratchit.


End file.
